The Fleeting Moment
by Camilla10
Summary: It starts with a tragedy: a desperate immortal is seeking his own death, horrified by the outcome of his last, deadly mission. But suicide isn't easy for vampires, and this applies to Edward Anthony Masen, the Volturi's Inquisitor, until Death challenges him… what must he do to get what he really desires? AU
1. Chapter 1 Prologue

Chapter 1 – Prologue

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A/N:

More than one year ago my husband asked me if somebody ever wrote a Twilight fanfiction inspired by Faust. I said I didn't think so, but that set me thinking, and here is my version of it. As I start posting only when a story is completely drafted, it took me many months to get here.

Warning: OK, something very bad happened to the Cullens. I hope you can accept it. Somebody, however, survived and Edward is NOT a Cullen.

Disclaimer. Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and its characters. This AU plot is mine.

When not otherwise indicated, the chapters are in Edward's PoV

…***…

Silence. Eerie underwater silence. No time passing - no before or after. Nothing but my own thoughts.

_Why, why can't I drown? Enough, enough, no more. I want to die… I want to die … I want to die … I want to die… I want… _

_Damn my memory, my everlasting vampire memory. No reprieve._

The children; it was always the children. Such beautiful, beautiful abominations. They had to be destroyed, didn't they? But first they had to be found and I, Anthony Volturi, the Coven's precious mind-reader, was brought in for the task. I could scan every thought within a few miles radius and discover if somebody was thinking about children. With love - or with horror, if the mind was human. Then it was easy to find what we were looking for. As the Volturi had better executioners than me, I was not required to actually destroy the creatures. I just had to watch and needed to be involved only if a fight ensued. The pain that echoed in the minds of the culprits nearly overcame me at times. The dams even lost the will to fight, after their child was burned. Yes, the ones who had created immortal children were always females, rebelling against a cursed, barren eternity.

Afterwards, back in Volterra, I tried to bury the horror in sex, not lacking willing partners, but the horror was never completely buried, and mindless couplings left a bitter aftertaste. I seldom bothered, now.

Not that my existence had improved much when, after decades, the discovery of immortal children became less and less frequent. I was instead sent out to interrogate vampires over alleged misdemeanors. It was impossible to lie to me and – once the so-called crime had been exposed - the punishment was death. Always death, unless the malfeasant was gifted. Then the vampire was spared and added to the Guard. In time I realized that the real aim of many missions was not justice, but the acquisition of talented vampires for my masters.

But now I had had enough. My mission in the Pacific Northwest of the United States was the last straw. The coven we came to destroy didn't deserve it. I remember their golden eyes and what they meant. At least, I could be happy that I did not betray the secret found in the mind of a tiny female, who tried desperately to deflect me, but could not keep it up. Minutes after that – after all the members of the coven but one had been felled - I bolted and ran from my comrades, faster as I'd never run before. I was no executioner, after all, and nobody was paying attention to me. Now, deep in the middle of nowhere in Canada, submerged in a nameless lake, I thought about achieving my goal.

The Volturi wouldn't destroy me, I was sure. If did something that enraged them, I would be punished, have my limbs removed perhaps, but still they would keep me. Was there a way I could set myself on fire? Build a pyre and make the venom flow, using my nails? Would it work? Would I have the courage to do it? I knew that the sense of self-preservation vampires have is extremely strong, so maybe my body would rebel instinctually, despite the promise of eternal silence in my head, despite the oblivion I craved.

Suddenly I heard a thought – loud, clear and nearby

"_No, it won't work, that is not the way you'll die."_

Somebody was in the lake. I turned. A man, or something that looked like a man, was suspended in the water. His face was obscured by black, loose garments floating around him. Other than his clothing, he was immobile.

I wanted to ask what the creature was, but it was impossible to speak underwater. However, the visitor heard me, because it was enough that I thought, _"How will I die, then?"_ to have an answer:

"_If you try to put your foolish plan in action you will be stopped – even if you attempt it, which is doubtful. Demetri is already looking for you. He is around here. Your being underwater helps to delay him, but once you resurface he'll find you, and he is not alone. You'll be subdued."_

"_This is not what I asked. Who the hell are you, by the way?"_ I thought angrily.

"_You are immortal, therefore you can't die. Not easily, that is_." There was a hint of mockery in the voice infesting my brain. _"In case, you must convince somebody to terminate you. Suicide is not natural to your kind. Plus, of course, your coven will make sure that enough of you survives to serve them."_

"_I'll find a way," _I insisted stubbornly, _"there must be a way."_

"_To be able to die you have to reconnect with mortality, to recover at least some of the humanity you have lost. You have to find your human feelings again. Call me when you are ready."_

"_And then you'll claim my soul_?" It was my turn to mock.

"_Oh, that's great! Do you believe you have a soul, then?" _The irony was unmistakable: Obviously he knew I believed I no longer possessed a soul.

Before I had the time to think of a retort, the voice added, "_No_, _I am no Mephistopheles, thank you. Good literary reference, though. No, I am the one every human will meet, when the time comes."_

"_Death." _It was like a dream, but vampires can't dream, so it was real, even if it was unbelievable. After all, a few minutes ago I had invoked the Grim Reaper, hadn't I?

"_Indeed, so I came. Pleased to meet you, Edward Antony Mason."_

This, the reference to a name I had not thought of for two centuries, the name of a human Scotsman – a presumed victim of the Clearances - I had all but forgotten about, was what convinced me.

"_But you can't take me now, you say. Please, tell me what to do."_

"_You have to find your own way. But, yes, Faust is very, very inspiring. Mm, I got it. To be human is to celebrate life, recognize its perfect imperfection, recognize that time on this Earth runs quickly and yet offers instants that are infinitely precious. So here is my wager, vampire: when you recognize the human perfection of that instant, when you will be able to sincerely say, '__**Stay, fleeting moment, thou art beautiful!**__' then you'll be ready and I'll come for you."_

Was Death delusional? I sincerely doubted it could ever happen. What I knew of human life and mortal people was not much, but I knew that their reality was ugly, misshapen and greedy. After all, vampires where enhanced humans, just that.

However, Death had something to add, ignoring my incredulity:

_For your quest you need to be free. Free of your coven, first of all. Yes, let me do this…"_ Unaccustomed to physical pain, I felt something hurting in my head.

"_Here, your brain map has changed now. Just a little, but enough. Demetri won't be able to track you anymore. As for Chelsea, I know that her hold on you is very weak. You wouldn't be here, otherwise. Your coven will wonder what happened to you, because you will be gone from Demetri's radar. It will remain a mystery, unless the Volturi find you again. They will think you are dead, for lack of a better explanation. Wait a day and resurface. You are free of them. Good bye, until we meet again."_

I was again alone in the water.

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Notes

I have anticipated my posting because I remembered that tomorrow is a big festivity in America. Happy Thanksgiving!

This chapter is short, but not a drabble . The next one will be longer. I plan to post every week, and - life or sanity threatening events apart – it will be completed, as it is all drafted. So you don't need to wait for the end to read and I need reviews. To post in a void is really, really depressing.

Self-preservation: indeed a vampire could commit suicide in the way I describe. But they don't. Their self preservation sense is too strong, as Edward surmises. This will be explored in later chapters.

I have written Mason, not Masen, intentionally.

My deepest thanks go to my pre readers and betas Raum, Serendipitous-Meilleur Café, Nuttyginger (for the first chapters) and Echoingwhisper. My final editor is Stefanie the HobbitIvy.


	2. Chapter 2 Alone

Chapter 2 - Alone

Underwater, I waited. _Wait a day_, Death had said to me. _You'll be free of the Volturi._ If it was true, even if nothing else was true, it was enough for me, no matter if the perfect moment I'd want to stop would never come. It was a ridiculous wager, since the thousands and thousands of horrible moments I had to live, with no end in sight, were the reason I wished to terminate my unnatural existence. But now I was given a reprieve and the impulse of self-destruction was somehow muted. It would come again, I was sure, and then I would force Death's bony hand.

When I finally emerged from the lake I heard only the sounds of the forest - there were no people nearby, human or otherwise. I was soaking wet and I had something to take care of first. I smashed a rock and put the bigger fragments inside my dark mantle, making a secure bundle of it and letting it sink into the water again. The chain with the embossed "V" medal met the same fate.

I had to go, so I started running South. I was hungry and would need to feed soon - if I managed to find somebody who wouldn't be missed. Vampires had to stay hidden from humans and never leave traces – this capital rule applied especially to me, as I'd to stay hidden from my former coven too.

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After some hundreds of miles I came upon a rustic cabin in a tiny clearing. It seemed empty, so I went inside. On reflection, I thought I wasn't dressed as the local human population would be, so far from civilization. Looking around I found some discarded garments, their faint smell indicating that they hadn't been used for months. There was nothing I could do for my dark grey pants, too dressy for a hiker, but if I shed my fitted shirt and coat, maybe I would look less conspicuous. Shuddering with disgust, I donned a white, logoed t-shirt and a checked flannel shirt.

Outside it was sunny and, even with no people around, I thought I should wait and come up with a plan. I examined the standard waterproof pouch each warrior was given when sent out on a mission. Documents – of which I needed to get rid of, as the name I had been given for travelling would be traceable. The same applied to the cell phone and the credit card. I had also one thousand American dollars in cash, which was fine, even if I probably were still in Canada. A small box contained a number of contact lenses, a modern invention that made the life of travelling vampires easier. _Unless they had golden irises, instead of crimson ones… no, I won't think about that._

If I choose a nomadic existence I wouldn't need much – just the occasional change of clothes, and I could take further funds from my prey after feeding. The idea was unappealing to me, however, nor would it help me to "reconnect with my humanity". I knew that around the world there were semi-settled small covens. They moved around, but stopped here and here for a while, to enjoy the perks of civilization and culture.

After I became a vampire I lived as nomad, together with my sire Algernon, and I'd hated it. He never told me exactly the circumstances of my transformation; all I read in his mind were just the bare facts, not the reasons behind. He'd come to the Highlands attracted by the forced evictions – later known as "clearances" - going on at the time. Displaced people could easily disappear, and the not yet dead victims of riots could provide an easy meal. Apparently, he found me lying on the ground, unconscious and with a cracked skull. After the Sheriff and his men chased the rioting crofters from the land, I was left behind in the chaos. I was still breathing, therefore Algernon carried me to where he hoped not to be seen or heard. He'd then started drinking my blood, but he was disturbed and I was left alone to suffer the flames of the metamorphosis. I believe he had seen other immortals approaching and had fled, having reasons of his own not to be seen.

When, later on, I became able to sort the thoughts I was now capable to read in his mind, it was difficult to make a sense of them. The fact that I had lost my memories did not help at all. The venom had restored my shattered brain, but my past was forever lost.

As far as I could understand it, Algernon came back two days later to see what had happened to me - surely with the intention of snapping my neck. My change, however, had progressed more quickly than he thought and I was already awake, confused, terrified and extremely thirsty. It was too late to kill me - I was stronger than him - and he knew that leaving a newborn to roam the countryside was something that would elicit punishment from the governing Italian coven, should they learn of it. I had to be trained and told the rules and that's what he did, if unwillingly. As newborns go, I was more scared than furious, more depressed than enraged and I submitted to him.

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By dusk, I was ready to leave the cabin. I stored my belongings in an old backpack I found in the loft and headed for the US border. I took a route across the mountains, as I had no paperwork to make a legal crossing. I would need to procure clean documents, but I had no idea how to go about it. Cash was a more pressing issue. I couldn't access my reserves without alerting the Volturi, and new credit cards required papers.

However, there was one thing I knew: I was a great poker player – one benefit of my ability.

Card playing, table games and other similar forms of entertainment were and are very popular in Volterra, as a way to pass the infinite time. Nobody wanted to play me at cards, obviously, but dice were acceptable. When my special skills weren't needed, I sometime went to the Venice's casino, where I made some quick money with poker and then lost most of it at the roulette or other games of chance, where I had no advantage. Unfortunately, Ca' Vendramin was not anymore the elegant place it used to be; now most of its patrons were either Japanese tourists or gangsters from Eastern Europe. In fact, some of the more irritating ones never got back to their hotels. A guy vacationing in Venice had to dine somewhere, after all.

Now, I had to locate some gambling haunts in the US. Having disposed of a truck driver who'd incautiously given me a lift and well sated, I drove his truck for a while before sinking it in a lake. Eventually, I found a mall and bought better quality clothing that would see me through the security of the gambling halls.

Then I made a mistake.

In Oregon, many casinos are owned by native people, apparently, and such was the one I eventually choose, a modest enterprise in the Coos Bay area. It was called "Cold River". They were lax about identification, which was fortunate. I'd taken the truck driver's license, but there were not many similarities in our features and he had been older than me, at least in human years.

I deposited three hundred dollars in the cage and waited for an available seat at a poker table. Playing prudently, and allowing for occasional losses, I thought I would be able to double my money in just one day, and start again somewhere else the next day.

Things were progressing positively when I realized that the pit boss – a middle aged native – was looking at me intently. I concentrated on his mind and froze. He knew, or suspected, what I was. It made sense, unfortunately. Had not a pack of native shape shifters, who knew everything about us, allied itself to a coven of strange immortals? In fact, it had been the very reason I was sent to the Olympic Peninsula by my masters. Shape shifters who could - and had - killed vampires.

Were all Indians aware of our existence? I did know that indigenous people in Brazil had a lot of legends concerning my species. Legends based, evidently, on true facts. Now I had to acknowledge that North American natives were also in the know. I needed to leave before the pit boss decided on any course of action. I rose from the table as soon as I could, went to recover the deposit and left quickly.

…***…

I folded my hand, despite having a flush. After two wins, it was better to start losing for a while, so not to make anybody nervous. The route that brought me to Atlantic City had been long and full of difficulties. Still intentioned to obtain money by gambling, I had left the Pacific North-West and headed East, moving at night from town to town and looking for opportunities.

In two centuries I had gathered total control on my thirst and, after the truck driver, I could've gone on without feeding for about a month. However, I had had to kill again to procure more money and an ID that could temporarily serve me. In doing this, I knew that I was no better than a common bandit but, after all, I was just behaving like a human, if a criminal one. Death would be pleased by my efforts.

For the money, I was so lucky to happen on a guy who had just robbed a liqueur store and had pockets full of cash. To procure a usable ID was trickier, as I had to find somebody who resembled me and was not going to be missed for a while. Eventually I took out a con man who tried to relieve me of my cash, relieving him of his life and fake IDs instead.

All in all, I was glad that the two men I killed were not innocents … here I did a double take: where was this feeling coming from? Was it because I'd had no need to drink from them and I didn't?

No matter, I had more urgent things to take care of. I could finally take a plane and reach my next destination: Atlantic City. Buying my ticket with cash got me some suspicious look, but I was eventually allowed to buy it.

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Finally, after the Oregon debacle, I was sitting again at a poker table. The "Montecarlo" was a middle range establishment on the Marina, well suited to my needs. Since I was going to lose the next couple of hands, I didn't need to pay a lot of attention to my fellow players' minds, so I idly scanned other people in the area. At the back of the hall, behind the cage, I noticed a number of doors, one with an obvious bodyguard in front of it. In fact, many gambling places offered the possibility to rent rooms for private events and such was the case here.

The heavy's mind surprised me, however. He was looking at a dice table, and he was expecting a fight to erupt. But the people he was looking at were not harboring any violent thoughts. If anything, they were worried. Regardless, a fight did erupt among them, with insults and some manhandling. It was strange, like play-acting. The guard left his position, looking ready to intervene and an old man came out of the now unguarded door to see what was happening.

"_Balistreri! Here is the bastard."_ A cold, determined thought reached me. Near the entrance a newcomer was looking at the old man, a hand concealed inside his coat and murder on his mind. Nobody was watching him, everybody's attention taken by the staged fight. In an instant I saw that the old man was going to be shot and, in the confusion, his killer would probably be able to get away. I don't know what moved me, perhaps the fact that I was not taken by the charade and it pissed me off. Moving much faster than a human – but unnoticed – I reached the old man and pushed him down. A bullet hit the wall where his head would have been a moment before.

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Notes

The **Highland Clearances** were the forced displacement of a significant number of people in the Scottish Highlands during the 18th and 19th centuries, I was an agricultural revolution that resulted in enclosures, largely carried out by hereditary aristocratic landowners. The changes were seen to be supported by the government, which gave financial aid for roads and bridges to assist the new sheep-based agriculture and trade. The Church of Scotland was divided. There was mass forced emigration to the sea coast, the Scottish Lowlands and the North American colonies. The clearances were particularly notorious due to the lack of legal protection for year-by-year tenants, the abruptness of the change from the traditional clan system, and the brutality of many evictions.

Edward sometime calls Native Americans _Indians. _A vampire over 200 years old, who has lived mostly in Italy (where political correctness is not the norm), won't be politically correct in his mind, and sometime even in his speech.

I am very grateful to all who favored, alerted and, in particular, reviewed. Thank you so much.


	3. Chapter 3 Mr Balistreri

Chapter 3 – Mr. Balistreri

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A/N I am posting early because my computer needs a small repair tomorrow. Don't worry, I have everything saved elsewhere too.

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After the shot, hell broke loose. Screaming people either dropped under tables or tried scrabbling for the exits.

The gunman ran away, and Balistreri's bodyguard went after him, his weapon drawn. I could tell from his thoughts he had no intention of catching him, and was in fact the gunman's accomplice.

"_That__fucker__Kozlov__ … __it__must__be__him._" The fallen man was less shaken than one would think. In the chaotic hall nobody was paying attention to us, as most people were looking at the door. I helped him to his feet and pushed him in the private room he had been using. In his mind I caught feelings of obvious gratitude and puzzlement about my identity.

"Listen," I told him quickly, "somebody must have already called the police, and if you are pointed out as the target, they'll interrogate you. If you believe you owe me something, I ask you not to mention me. Can you do that?"

"Of course," he said, thankfully being a fast thinker. "Go back to the hall. I won't be able to identify you or, better, you were never near me. But I owe you more than this. Please, come to my hotel tomorrow. I'm staying at the Grand Ocean View. My name is Joe Balistreri. You won't be sorry," he promised me.

I returned to my table, but not all the other players had returned. Fortunately, nobody had messed with the cards and the chips; in the poker pit the situation was calming down. The false fight had subsided, of course, but the people who had staged it were now very worried, realizing the charade they had been paid for had held a deadly aim. They, however, didn't know anything else. While waiting to see if the game would resume, I was able to monitor what was happening with Balistreri in his room. He made a quick call, telling whoever was on the line to confirm having set an appointment with him. When the bodyguard came back, reporting his failure to apprehend the would-be killer, he was also told not to mention that they'd been waiting for a man named Igor Kozlov.

When two policemen finally went to speak with Balistreri, he was adamant that nobody had tried to kill him. There were other people nearby and somebody else must have been the intended victim. When he'd heard the shot, he had dropped down like everybody else, and then he had found refuge in the safety of his room. As for his bodyguard, he had only done his duty as a citizen, but without success. When asked why he was in the casino and had rented a private room, Balistreri told them he was meeting some friends to discuss subcontracts for the building project he was involved with in Atlantic City; then they would dine in one of the casino's restaurants and maybe have a shot at the roulette. But his friends had been late and now he had told them not to come at all. I thought it very smart on his part, if the police checked his calls. As for why Balistreri had come out of his room, it was due to a commotion he had heard, he said, referring to the staged fight.

The cops remained rather unconvinced. In their minds his smooth denials screamed: "_mobster__" _and so did the look of his bodyguard_._They were surely going to check on him and on the friends he was supposed to meet here. They knew well, however, that nothing would come of it. After all, nobody had been hurt, the shooter had disappeared, and Balistreri was not going to press charges, so they had no leg to stand on.

The rule of never talking to the police and settling your scores outside the law was something I was well aware of: it was the way Mafia and Camorra operated in Italy too, so I thought that the policemen were spot on.

No one, including Balistreri, fingered me to the cops. Nobody had noticed what I had done, so I could put the accident and my impulsive behavior behind me. However, as the night progressed, I found that I wanted to know more about the man I had saved. Plus, he'd been sincere when he said he wanted to demonstrate his gratitude and, if he indeed he belonged to the Mob, he could truly help me.

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The next day I went to see him. I didn't give my name to the concierge, asking them instead to tell Mr. Balistreri I was a friend from the Montecarlo. It was enough to gain me admittance to his suite. His bodyguard wasn't present, which gave me an understanding of his frame of mind. I decided to go along with it, giving him a warning without making him suspect my particular abilities.

"Make what you wish of it," I said, "but I happened to notice your bodyguard yesterday. He was looking at the dice table much before the fight started, like … like he was expecting it. All in all, I think the commotion was staged. So, let me say I am not surprised that he was unable to catch the shooter."

Balistreri must have been well over seventy, but his dark eyes were clear and sharp.

"You are a very observant young man," he said. "And you are probably right. He is no longer in my service."

He was curious about me, as I was about him. In this case I had the advantage so, while we exchanged pleasantries and I politely refused refreshments, I got enough from his mind to figure him out. What I found was rather surprising: he was involved in a project to build low-income housing on a large lot in Atlantic City, and he wanted to do it right. As the policemen had suspected, he was or, better, had been prominent in organized crime. However, the powerful Italian family to which he had belonged had been slowly, and sometime painfully, ousted from power by other emerging gangs of different nationalities. He had prudently survived the war, and had been allowed to retire. Now a childless widower, Balistreri had had time to consider his past and wanted to make amends for his crimes. This socially oriented building project was his atonement - after all the money he had earned with faulty and debatable projects carried out ruthlessly. That a hardened criminal was concerned with his immortal soul was amazing – humans were really a tangle of contradictions.

"Would you be interested in replacing my bodyguard?"

Balistreri's proposal came out of the blue, I hadn't read it in his mind before he had spoken, but had gleaned that he had judged me quickly and decidedly. Plus, I'd saved his life once already. Indeed, I could make a fine bodyguard, but one that could operate only after sundown. I was drawn to the old man – albeit he was a human – and I wished to know who this Kozlov was and why he wanted him dead.

I decided to be – almost – sincere.

"I can't," I replied. "As you must have guessed, I am on the run. I just came here to make some money. I am good at poker."

"Pity," he answered. "But I owe you a lot and you must be rewarded. Tell me what I can do for you."

If he had retained some of his old connections, he could surely do something for me.

"I need a new identity," I told him, "with all that goes with it. Can you help me with that?"

"I think I can. I have to call in some favors, but I still have friends. Do you have a name you'd like to go by?"

I thought I could resuscitate the name of the young Scotsman I had forgotten everything about, with a small alteration.

"Edward, Edward Masen." I wanted to preserve something of my real self, quite sure that nobody, vampire or human, would connect it to me.

Balistreri told me to drop off some photos as soon as possible and to return two days after that. Before leaving, I asked if he wanted me to try and find the man who had attempted to kill him. As I was expecting, he was extremely vague, and told me not to bother - he would find a way to protect himself. His mind was, however, not vague at all, and I finally got the gist of the matter.

A Russian big mobster, Igor Kozlov, was interested in the lot Balistreri had purchased and intended to build on, because of its prime location. He was planning to build a high-end men's club there, complete with a spa/gym, and use it as a front for his other activities. The Russian was sure he could easily obtain an authorization for the project's change of use – he had people on his pay in the Atlantic City's local government. To Balistreri he proposed a partnership, or to buy the land outright from him. But, much to his surprise, the old man had refused. Kozlov had then requested another meeting, saying he had terms that would be more acceptable. The Montecarlo, full of people, had seemed a safe place and Balisteri had accepted. Instead of a meeting, obviously, the Russian had planned an assassination.

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After I had dropped the photos the night was still young, so I decided to make a round of night-clubs and bars. What I was looking for was not a game, but somebody thinking in Russian.

It was a slow progress, but at dawn I had located my target.

After two days spent in different casinos, I went to see Balistreri again, and he had everything I had requested. A driving license in the name of Edward Masen - born in Chicago 23 years ago - and a social security card. It was something, I understood, that was essential if I intended to remain in the US. Soon, my host added, if one went to look at the Chicago birth records, my name would pop up at the appropriate date. In the small folder there was also an envelope full of money that he said I'd rightly earned.

We were done, but I could sense that the old man was worried, because he didn't know when the next attack would come. He needed to strengthen his personal security, replacing the crooked guy he had before with at least two people. But whom could he trust?

I had to tell him that his fears were now unfounded.

"Mr. Balistreri," I said, "I don't know how important this is for you but, if you put your ear to the ground, you'll discover that somebody has gone missing. One Igor Kozlov has disappeared from his rooms, and I believe he will not resurface anytime soon."

Certainly not, as his exsanguinated body now rested in Bass River Park, under a tree I had uprooted and replanted the night before.

Speechless, he looked at me, questions spinning in his mind. How did I know his business? How did I know who Kozlov was? And now, I was saying that the bastard had disappeared. Dead? Had I killed him? Why?

I could not answer his questions, obviously.

"Do not be concerned about me, Mr. Balistreri." I told him, preparing to leave. "There is nothing to worry about. You don't know me, and I don't know you. In fact I hope you'll forget the name you created for me. In any case, I'll be leaving Atlantic City soon and I will not return. But I am grateful and I hope I have been of service to you as you have been helpful to me. I wish the best of luck to your housing project."

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I left Atlantic City riding a motorcycle; helmet and gloves allowed me to travel during the day even if it was sunny, and besides, I enjoyed riding. In Italy I had left a beloved Guzzi Norge; here I had to be content with a second hand Ducati GT 1000, which cost about five thousand dollars, the maximum I could afford at the moment. While the road rolled under me I reflected on all that had passed and what I had done.

"Who the fuck are you?" had cried the Russian gangster when I broke through the window of his fifth floor bedroom. Then he had said nothing more, unconscious after a light slap. His bodyguards were clamoring outside, trying to open the door, but when they finally managed it, I had already jumped back, carrying my prey with me. When Kozlov recovered his senses we were already in the park. While he struggled in my iron grip, I could read in his terrified mind that he was trying to figure out not so much who I was – I was something inexplicable – but who could have sent me. And, from what I could see, there were plenty of people who had reasons to hate him. His curiosity I could easily assuage.

"Joe Balistreri sends his respects." I told him politely before I bit him, not bothering to stun him first, as I usually did.

I'd been surprised at myself. The elimination of Kozlov had been a gratuitous decision on my part, but one that had given me enormous satisfaction. I'd felt that Balistreri deserved the chance of doing what he'd set out to do. He had given me my freedom, and I had given him his. But there'd been more: the pleasure associated with drinking the Russian's blood had been enhanced by the fact that I was ridding the world of a despicable individual. I now wondered if choosing my prey according to ethical criteria – something I had never considered doing - would make hunting much more interesting.

Well, I would see. For the moment I had to get to New York, or, more precisely, to Wall Street.

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Notes

I adore reviews and I try to answer every one of them. But last time I might have answered somebody twice and somebody not at all. Forgive me. FF net doesn't allow for checking what you have written, so it is easy to make a mess. I'll be more careful.

And, speaking of reviews, I got some wonderful comments and, in particular, I have to share one that really stunned me with its insight. It was about something I myself hadn't realized. "Emerging from the lake may well be Edward's baptism into a new kind of life and consciousness that will put him on the *real* hero's journey. I am so looking forward to his adventures, his realizations, his changes and his epiphanies." (BelleBiter)

This chapter owes a lot to Serendipitous/Meilleur Café. I used some of her very useful suggestions here.


	4. Chapter 4 What Next?

TFM

Chapter 4 - What next?

"Thank you, Rick. That's all for now." I saluted my agent, amused by his eagerness to leave. He loved having me as a client, but I made him nervous. He much preferred conducting our business by phone.

It had taken me a little more than a year to become, if not enormously rich, quite well off. I'd had a financial portfolio in Italy, but I hadn't managed it personally - the Volturi had stock market brokers to act for them. Prudent guys who knew better than to make mistakes, clearly sensing that not only their fee was at stake.

On Wall Street, however, I'd been on my own. Finding an agent had not been too difficult. I hadn't any big capital to start with, so I was not an interesting client for the big brokers. The man I eventually choose was new to the job, having just obtained his license and having no clients to speak of yet. As he was black, he felt further disadvantaged and was surprised that a white (very white) guy was going to entrust him his money.

Rick's parents had emigrated from the Caribbean, and he desperately desired to make it in New York. His youth and inexperience weren't a problem, as I intended to give him directives on what to buy and trade, being my own investment advisor. At lunch time financers, stock brokers and businessmen ate in the many restaurants of the Wall Street area and I joined them. I ordered some simple food – which disappeared unnoticed into a small plastic bag on my lap - fake sipped a glass of wine and listened. To minds rather than to conversations, as conversations were mostly guarded. It was rare that I did not leave my table with a precious snippet about a merger about to happen, which would skyrocket the related shares, or a suspected, but still unknown, lack of company's liquidity which would affect their value. I then instructed Rick on what to do.

In a word, I was trading securities on the basis of material information not - or not yet - in the public knowledge. Illegal, of course, much like my whole existence was.

As the months passed, I became more experienced and so did Rick. Now I was letting him manage my portfolio and take decisions, erring on the side of caution, unless I was in for a kill, and had managed to do a round of the restaurants near Wall Street first.

Speaking of kills, I mostly hunted evildoers now, just as I'd decided to do when leaving Atlantic City. In general they were just vermin, lurking in places like Central Park at night, waiting for their kind of prey. But sometimes my abilities helped me learn about higher range people, top of the chain of complex criminal activities. It was my pleasure to unravel and disrupt those activities before making a meal of them. Humans had a word for what I was doing: vigilantism – a term that carried a stigma of sorts, as law abiding citizens shouldn't substitute themselves to the police, let alone transform themselves in judges and executioners. Well, I was everything but law abiding, so it was fine.

In my existence, I'd never concerned myself with humans. Prey was brought to Volterra by our lures, otherwise I hunted during missions or on a leave of absence. I knew that it was better to choose inconsequential people, and never leave traces. As I wasn't one to play with my food, I used to kill or render unconscious the people I drank from. After all, their thoughts of pain and fear usually detracted from my enjoyment of meals. Now it was different. Some humans were crueler than the cruelest vampire, and they deserved to die in terror.

This was new to me because, until I left my coven, my job had been to help eradicating rogue vampires, not humans, and I'd forgotten everything about having been one.

.

I never remembered who I was, exactly, when I awoke after my change. I had a letter in my pocket, addressed to one Edward Antony Mason. With it, somebody who called me Dear Nephew and was a Church of Scotland's Minister - according to the letter's headings - tried to convince me not to endanger my studies, my future and my soul by doing something rash to oppose the evictions. They shouldn't concern me, he maintained. The clearances, despite the suffering they created, were necessary for progress, so good Christians should submit to the Laird and God's will. It was, after all, a chance for sinners to repent.

Evidently, I hadn't heeded him.

Algernon, my sire, was a coward, terrified of the Volturi and terrified that somebody would tell them his whereabouts. The reason he had left after biting me, and the reason he returned – finding me already transformed - was that he had been granted a reprieve for some misdemeanor and now he walked on a tight rope. "We never grant second chances" was a favorite expression of our leaders. When it became clear to him that I was gifted, he thought it gave him the perfect opportunity to ingratiate himself anew with the Brothers who ruled the vampires' world.

As soon as I was finally in control of my bloodlust, we left Scotland. We swam from the North Sea to the English Channel, crossed France, then went into the sea again in Marseille and reached the Italian shores near Pisa. Very soon we reached Volterra, where I was made very welcome. In turn, I was very happy to get rid of Algernon. It was only later that I learned what would be demanded of me.

There is no denying that immortal children are an abomination and shouldn't be allowed to exist. Before my arrival, for over a millennium, the search for them and their dams had been led by Boris, a vampire who wasn't a mind reader but could sense – even at a distance – vampires' age, both in human and immortal years. This talent could have been considered a rather irrelevant one, but for this particular hunt, which had made him extremely useful to the Volturi. Unfortunately for the coven, he'd met his end during the war against werewolves in Eastern Europe, and when I arrived in Volterra, it was feared that more children had been created, with nobody the wiser. News of events that could suggest the suspicions were true reached Italy with more difficulty than they would now, in the modern telecommunications era.

I did as I was told. I found the vampire children and their creators, but the culprits' death was devastating, and the children were innocent victims. For me it was a mental agony each time. However, the fear of deadly punishment worked, and after less than a century, no more immortal children were to be found. But of course my masters were never done with me….

.

The buzz of the doorbell, together with the thoughts of the woman outside, shook me from my bitter reminiscing.

Even before opening the door I knew what she wanted. Theoretically some sugar, practically me. Once again I questioned the wisdom of living in an apartment in Manhattan. At the same time, it was the most normal thing a human could do. A non-descript small flat of a '30s building, on West 25th street.

"Hi, I'm Dolly from across the hall. Please, would you lend me some sugar? My cousin likes her coffee plain, but I can't drink it…."

_Oh God, you truly are gorgeous. Say yes, gimme a chance…_

"I think I have some left. Please wait here." Having treated Rick to coffee a few times in my home, I did have sugar and I went into my spotless kitchenette to fetch it. The girl's frustrated thoughts followed me. She had hoped to be invited in, and progress from there. Dolly was from Philadelphia, visiting a cousin in New York, and having seen me and having liked what she had seen, hoped for my availability. I normally toned out the minds of the building's residents, so I hadn't noticed her. She was pretty, blonde and with a voluptuous body, accentuated by the very tight top she wore.

"Ooh, a piano. Do you play?"

"Occasionally."

As a human I must have played the piano, and after the change, my fingers remembered what my brain did not. After all, it was a common pursuit among the educated, at a time where canned music was not available. In Volterra I had became quite proficient, having infinite time to practice and the best instruments at my disposal in the music rooms. It was one of the few things that soothed me after missions. Here I'd finally bought an upright Steinway, mourning the lack of space that wouldn't allow me a grand.

"I adore music. Would you play for me sometime?" Dolly purred, her hopes rekindled. She thought she had the perfect excuse to visit again.

"I am leaving town, I am sorry." I said curtly, giving her the almost full sugar packet. A moment after I shut her and her disappointment out.

_Hell, now I will have to leave for a while. Fortunately she is going back to Philadelphia soon._

My irritated thoughts wandered around a scenario where I did in fact have sex with Dolly. She was ready to be taken and this knowledge, coupled with her lusty and vivid imagination, had managed to arouse me.

I just had to cross the landing and knock at the door. Unfortunately, I wasn't sure she would survive the encounter. I had never copulated with a human, but other vampires did, and the end was always the same, since many immortals found extreme pleasure in drinking after intercourse, or while having it. Plus, due to our strength, the human was often seriously injured during the coupling, so his or her death became a necessity anyway. To me, the very idea was repulsive. Just imagining the woman's mind shifting from pleasure to pain and terror was enough to keep me away. Female vampires were a different matter, of course, and I'd had my share of them. Along with music, sex was the other thing I could lose myself in, after many distasteful missions.

No, it was better to take a shower and do what I could in order to calm down. In the last years of my servitude my interest in sex had waned, and I had lived like a monk. I never found a vampire interesting enough to have a longer liaison with, let alone to be my mate. All in all, I tended to disbelieve the mating bond, the case of Marcus being the exception, not the rule. Otherwise, it did not seem to be as absolute as theory wanted it to be.

In any case, my ability didn't help my relationships, as much as I tried to stay out of my occasional companions' heads. Mission after mission, 'trial' after 'trial', I'd sunk deeper into a bleak melancholy. It was the "black humor", so well described by classic authors, but one which had a cause. I had believed for a long time I was an instrument of justice. A harsh justice to be sure, but still justice, necessary to keep some order in the bloody interaction between immortals and mankind. Otherwise, uncontrollable massacres would happen until only one species survived. And - in both cases - vampires would lose. But I was wrong. The original reasons behind my masters' ruling of our universe became blurred. Other reasons, inacceptable ones, started to became evident. Painfully so.

I'd a perfect recall of what had happened when we Volturi enforcers confronted the Cullen Coven and - unable to accept the tragic outcome - I'd decided to run. Then, believing escape was impossible, I had sought my own end, or tried to. However, I had been stopped and, at least for a while, I had to continue living.

After more than two centuries I was free, therefore I'd to decide what to do with myself for the time being. _And now, what next? _The importune thought had plagued me more than once, and today was not different.

Since coming to New York, I'd been able to seek solace in human art and culture. I'd gone to concerts, theatres, cinemas and visited museums often, happy that those pleasures were no longer a bounty bestowed on me by the Brothers' largesse, but something I could offer myself. Now, however, a new thought hit me: we vampires really were parasites. Nomads lived only for the blood, but even a civilized coven like the Volturi found enjoyment in the products of human creativity. Depended on it. We didn't produce anything and had to rely on humans not only for our sustenance but just for passing the time. It was a depressing thought.

Humans were contradictory indeed! The more I was in contact with them, the more I was puzzled by how high they could fly in the spiritual sense, and yet how low they could sink, like the ones I was hunting down. In fact, humans were puzzled themselves about their own nature and had dedicated a lot of research to this issue. Maybe… maybe I could try to understand better what humanity was. Psychology must have found some answers, and I too could benefit from the knowledge.

A few days after I was still looking for a University. The need to leave my apartment – thus escaping Dolly's attention – had brought me outside Manhattan and the suburbs. I wouldn't go very far, because I still thought that the metropolis offered me the best hunting grounds, but a change of scenery was welcome. Today I was considering Dyson College in Pleasantville, one of the campuses of Pace University, scattered in and around New York City.

I had enquired and learned that the college accepted auditors, for a fee. Obviously, I couldn't enroll as a student, not having any valid high school certificate. Auditors, however, could attend lessons, use labs and library, interact with professors, and even take tests to monitor their progress. Their BA programs offered, among others, courses in experimental psychology, social psychology, and the history of psychology. It was what I wanted, but I still debated if one of the colleges inside Manhattan wouldn't be a better choice. I was sitting inside a coffee shop with my untouched cup in front of me, and lazily looking outside the shop's windows. I tried to ascertain if the sun was going to make an apparition and if I would need to don my helmet before going outside, when I saw a girl in the street.

She was the same girl I'd seen in Alice Cullen's thoughts, the human who was her friend against all rules, and whose existence she had desperately tried to conceal from me. My eyes widened as I recalled Alice's memories. I again saw the two of them laughing, walking arm in arm. It was clear they had been close. The girl looked so much more vivid in real life: very pretty, with a heart-shaped face, brown tresses, and pale skin. What was it about her that had inspired Alice's devotion? Why was she so special as to make vampires risk extermination just to befriend her? I had pried open the little vampire's mind, but I'd not betrayed her secret - otherwise the human would have been dead by now.

I tried to read the girl's mind and know more, but to my shock, I heard nothing. It couldn't be the glass that deflected me, so what was it? And why was she here now, so far from the Olympic Peninsula? Did she know what had befallen the Cullens? I needed answers; they were more important to me than studying psychology on a whim. Thus I decided I needed to stay in this campus, hoping that she too was a student here.

.

However, after two months of college, I still hadn't found her. She was not in Pleasantville.

.

Notes

Rick's character is based on an actual person I know in NY and he and his friends were convinced that that being black was the main reason behind his career's difficulties. He didn't get the chance of getting a very pale and well informed client to start him off, however, so – no longer a broker - he is now a math teacher. I hope nobody is offended by this. As I say, it's a true story of a few years ago.

So, where is Bella? The answer in the next chapter, which will be posted Dec 26th or 27th .

Have a wonderful Christmas, if you celebrate it, and happy holidays to all of you.


	5. Chapter 5 Bella

Chapter 5 - Bella

"_Dad, Dad, the tree!" But Charlie doesn't answer me. He is unmoving and his eyes – oh God - his eyes are closed, and there is a grimace on his face. The car has slowed down a little, but it's going straight, despite a bend on the road, and the tree is coming nearer and nearer… We are going to crash. _

_I scream, knowing there is no way I can reach the brakes. I brace myself, but the impact I am expecting doesn't come. A wisp of a girl suddenly appears between the car and the tree and she stops the cruiser with her hands! I recognize the girl who has just done the impossible. She too is attending Forks High, even though we don't share the same classes and I don't know her. Alice Cullen. But now this isn't important. It's Charlie who matters. The fact that he's slumped on the side is a bad sign. Very bad. _

"_Carlisle!" Alice calls, and Doctor Cullen - her adoptive father - emerges from the woods. I know him, since I have, on multiple occasions, visited Forks' Hospital ER._

_Now I'm afraid to pass out, and they help me out of the car, but I have problems standing. I sit on the ground while the doctor is half inside the car's cabin. When he emerges, he looks at Alice and shakes his head. I start crying, I can't help myself…._

_._

I woke from the dream, and my cheeks were wet. The almost accident and the moment I realized Charlie was dead were etched in my brain, and I relived them in each painful detail. Awake or asleep, I couldn't get rid of those memories.

_Doctor Cullen had pulled out a cell phone. The first call was to my Dad's office and his words were considerate, but precise. "…I suspect an aneurysm … fortunately the Chief was able to stop the car before collapsing, so his daughter is unharmed..."_

_He was lying: Charlie did not stop the car. I tried to croak something, but I found myself unable to speak. _

_Alice put her tiny hands on my shoulders and murmured: "Shh, Bella, I'll explain everything, but not now."_

"_Are you sure of what you're doing, Alice?" Her father seemed worried._

_She answered, so fast I couldn't catch it. Then the doctor made another call, also speaking fast and low._

_For a while we just waited. The first to arrive was a black Mercedes, driven by Esme, the doctor's wife. I couldn't understand why, but then I realized that Alice and her father had come out of the woods, they didn't have a car. What were they doing in the woods, midway between La Push and Forks? Then my father's colleagues arrived too, and an useless ambulance followed. _

"_Please, Bella, go with what we say," Alice pleaded. _

_I was sort of numbed, but I nodded. She had saved my life, after all._

_Therefore there were more lies to listen to, how the Cullens were driving by, saw the car going out of control, stopped, and so on. My dad's body was taken away. Esme offered to take me home with them. She said that I shouldn't stay alone in my house; there would be time tomorrow to address all that needed to be addressed._

_I spent the night in one of the Cullen's guest rooms, passing from tears to moments of fretful sleep, and then crying again. Alice didn't leave me alone, but she didn't touch me while she lay beside me on the bed. In the morning I had no more tears, and finally I had questions to ask._

_After two hours I had my answers, and my life changed completely, much more than Charlie's death alone would have changed it._

Firmly shutting the lid on my memories, I prepared myself for today's work. Mary Dale, assistant librarian, quiet, reserved, no friends, but just a few acquaintances to have coffee with - provided they didn't pry too much. The secrets I had to keep were too many, starting with my real name.

According to Alice, I was in danger. She was too, with only the constant presence at her side of one of the wolves preventing Demetri, the Volturi's tracker, to locate her. The same presence, however, interfered with her visions, so she couldn't be sure of what was happening, couldn't plan and, worst of all, couldn't See where her husband Jasper was.

Jasper, who had tried to kill me and had run away in despair. This, however, might have saved his life. Had he been at home when they came…

.

"Yes, thank you, ma'am. Let me stamp your card." Today I was required to stand at the counter and interact with the public, which was not my normal task. I'd landed this job by chance. When I arrived in New York I'd been very bored, after I'd done all the classic tourist visits. My apartment was small and stifling, but it was located in the Village, and being outside was much better than staying in, where time seemed to never pass. The lending library I happened upon on a rainy day was pleasant, and I started to linger there, reading. Then I had helped a librarian when a pile of books she was carrying fell down, then the staff began nodding to me when I arrived… I felt safe because, when we chatted a little, it was about books, not about my private life. I just said I had moved to New York after a sad loss and was taking some time to recover, before deciding about college.

After a couple of months one of the assistant librarians got pregnant. She had a difficult pregnancy and was told to be careful, so she remained at home and the library was understaffed. To offer a temporary position was among the manager's powers, and I was offered it, on the understanding that it was just for some months. It was part time only, and it was perfect for me. Then another employee left suddenly, having found a better paying job, and my contract was renewed.

I was not penniless, because my dad's good life insurance saw to it and the Cullens had invested it for me. In the frantic hours after the tragic visit of the Volturi, Alice had worked her magic on my money. Untraceable, now it rested in a different account to my new name, and the same applied to my college fund, so carefully put together by my parents. Indeed it'd been easy to disappear; I was all alone in the world.

However, I was unable to plan my life anew. Alice had promised that as soon as she Saw that the danger was past, she would come for me. Presently, she was able to have glimpses of the future only if she went underwater, and if the Quileute who was guarding her distanced himself. But her best visions were spontaneous, with all the variables flowing, so there wasn't much she managed to See.

Furthermore, she moved around a lot, just in case, and our way of communicating was complicated. I knew she was also searching for Jasper. Her rare visions showed him living in the wilderness somewhere, but she had no way to reach him and tell him what had happened to the family. He'd crushed his cell phone when he had run away.

Such a stupid accident! A tiny paper cut while I was opening one of my graduation's presents. But a little blood was spilled. Jasper had not hunted enough, so he lost his head and tried to bite me. Carlisle and Emmett subdued him easily, and I wasn't even too scared. But for Jasper it was a tragedy. He felt he had betrayed Alice and the family who had welcomed him so warmly despite his dark past. He couldn't face them and so he ran.

.

"So, did you find your perfect college, Mary?"

I smiled to Deb over my cup of coffee.

"I don't know, there are so many…" So far, it had been more of a pastime than a serious research, but I did collect some information. Weeks ago I even went off town, to visit Dyson College - a branch of Pace Uni located in Pleasantville - just because the name appealed to me.

"But, have you decided if you want to stay in New York or move again, at least?"

"I can't even decide on that, sorry." Dyson had a good English Lit BA program, but the same applied to the Manhattan's branch.

Deb, a nice, middle aged woman, sometimes looked at me with concern, when she thought I wasn't paying attention.

"Oh well, you aren't ready yet, I can see it. I suppose there's still time to send applications in."

Yes, the applications. I had a forged high school diploma too, but I wasn't so keen to use it.

Coffee break over, I went back to put some returned books on the shelves, but I was nervous. My co-workers thought I was from Oregon – a State at least I knew something about, being near to my native Washington – and that I had come to NY after losing both my parents in a car accident. I needed a complete change of scenery – I'd explained - and nothing kept me there. I didn't have other relatives and - now that we had all graduated - my few friends were scattering. All lies, of course. My best friends, the Quileutes, were still in Washington, protecting Alice and, indirectly, me.

But, if people started to probe deeper, it could be dangerous. I didn't want to be found and, more than death, I feared to be captured and used against my friends. So maybe I had to leave my job. If people searched for me in the internet, for instance, that would leave traces others could find.

A couple hours later I left the library and started walking home, feeling I was moving under a dark cloud. I didn't want to be completely alone again, with nothing to do, nobody to speak to. Maybe I had to erase my diary too - my only comfort, but an imprudence, despite its concealment. I felt tears of self-pity gathering in my eyes.

Suddenly somebody behind me whispered "Bella", and I froze, thinking that everything ended here, that I had been discovered.

But the woman who had called me was not an enemy. Tall and beautiful, her skin a rich tan color, her hair jet black, she was out of place on New York's pavement. She belonged to the forests of the Olympic Peninsula.

"Leah!" I cried, running into her arms.

"Shh, Bella, not here. Let's go where we can speak," she cautioned me. On the other side of the road a motorcycle had slowed down, and the rider was looking at us, his helmet slightly turned in our direction. Then he speed away at full throttle.

Leah too had been looking at him, a frown on her face, but eventually she shook her head and said: "Let's go!"

Finally in my apartment, I went to put the kettle on to boil, while she sat on the couch. I came back with two tea mugs, almost bursting from the questions I had.

"Why are you here? And, by the way, you almost gave me a heart attack. Don't do it again! Where is Alice? Did you leave her alone? Are we safe now?"

She raised her hand to stop the deluge.

"No, we aren't safe, no. Nobody is safe yet. Now that we have moved to the East Coast for a while, Alice asked me to come and see you. Seth is with her now, until I go back."

I noticed that she didn't tell me where they were staying, and I was okay with it. If the Volturi discovered I existed - a human knowing about vampires - I would be sentenced to death, but they wanted Alice. Their leader, Aro, desperately wanted to have her under his control. Alice's greatest fear was that they would capture Jasper and then use him to make her surrender herself. While Leah spoke, I noticed distractedly how well she was dressed: pants, pullover and coat perfectly color matched, a far cry from how she dressed when she lived in the Rez. Alice's effect, for sure.

I then asked my friend what Alice had Seen recently, if anything.

It appeared that the Volturi had not yet decided to strike and mount a punitive expedition against the wolves. They weren't sure about their number, and wiping out an entire tribe wouldn't remain unnoticed. They intended to do it, eventually, but not immediately. Time flowed in a different way, for vampires, and to find Alice was their immediate priority.

Alice, who had managed to run, when her surrogate parents and her siblings fell in front of her. She had Seen that the mysterious flight of the Volturi's Inquisitor would give her a chance to slip away while his comrades were distracted, and she took it.

.

Notes

The Public Library branch Bella works for is fictional, but it's modeled on the one my Aunt Camilla (the original Camilla) went to get books from. And Edward's apartment in Manhattan is the one where my aunt lived. I write better if I can imagine my characters in places I know. Incredibly, much before Twilight was conceived by Stephenie, my husband and I visited the Olympic Peninsula while travelling in the US.

As said in the prologue, I have decided that being underwater interferes with Demetri's tracking.

Thank you so much for reading and for the reviews. There is one I want to share, by . 2muchtrouble:_"You have taken canon Edward and shown what he could have been like without Carlisle. Very insightful." _Well, I hope I did. It was not completely conscious.

Next update at the beginning of 2014. Happy new year!


	6. Chapter 6 Stalker

Chapter 6 - Stalker

_Her!_

After so much useless searching in Pleasantville, I found her here, in Manhattan. I had registered to audit classes at Dyson College and spent many weeks there - not only because of the psychology course I was supposed to follow, but also looking into every lecture hall the college had, just to find her.

I parked my bike around the corner, and searched for the mind of her companion - the tall girl my target had embraced. She was obviously a Native American, and she absolutely shouldn't see me. Fortunately the dirty smell of exhaust gases pervaded the air, so there was nothing to give me away, if she were one of the Quileutes.

As the sun had gone for the day I removed my helmet and followed the two girls at a distance, reading the tall one's mind. Through her eyes I could follow their route, see the streets they were crossing, until they reached a three story building, and I saw them getting in. In her head she was calling her friend Bella, so I finally had a name to go by.

Circling around the building, I was able to climb to the roof undetected – it was quite dark by then - and I set about listening. The third floor apartment was deserted, so I found the two girls easily on the second floor. I couldn't sense Bella's mind; she was a blank to me, and this was very puzzling. But, however muffled, I could hear them speaking, and of course I could follow the Indian girl's thoughts. I found out her name was Leah.

Before I could settle on the roof, they had been already speaking, and the first sentence I heard had me almost jumping.

_No, we aren't safe, no. Nobody is safe yet. But we moved to the East Coast for a while and Allie asked me to come and see you. Seth is with her now, until I get back._

For a while their conversation became inconsequential: they spoke of dresses – as females, human or not, are wont to do. Boring, until Bella went to make some more tea, and her friend was left to her own devices.

The memory her mind was dwelling on now was weird: she was in a forest, walking with a girl. I froze, because I knew her. Alice Cullen, no doubt about it. They got to a pond. Alice undressed to basics and went into the water, until she was completely submerged. And her companion… how could I describe what she did? Her body tingled and expanded, while she made a movement in the air very similar to diving. I felt in Leah's mind her powerful muscles pumping while she started to run. From the corner of her eyes I could see giant paws covered in gray fur moving in front of her. She was a wolf, one of the shape-shifting Quileutes, and I had experienced her metamorphosis. Amazing. Then I saw that other thoughts were present in her brain, but I couldn't make any sense of them. Was she hearing voices? Only one actually, I soon realized. I was utterly confused; in a sense it was like I felt when I first discovered I could read minds, after my change. What was going on in the wolf-girl's head?

I was so absorbed in my wonder, that I didn't realize Bella was back and they had resumed talking. I'd missed part of what had been said, and now they had decided to go out for dinner. Bella was talking about a Chinese restaurant in the neighborhood. I decided not to follow them, as they would surely come back.

As I felt their chatter vanishing, I wondered if I should visit the apartment. Breaking and entering wouldn't be a problem, but then I realized that the Quileute would probably be able to sniff the presence of a vampire. No, I wouldn't risk it while she was still with Bella.

After a long wait, much longer than it would have been necessary to eat a dinner, I saw Bella in the street below. But she was alone. Where had the native girl gone? I had thought to follow her, because I wanted to discover where Alice was staying, but Leah had unwittingly fooled me. I should have imagined it – she didn't have any kind of luggage, no overnight bag, so she must have gone back to whatever place she was staying.

Later, when everybody in the building was obviously sleeping, I risked going down the fire escape till I reached Bella's window.

Her bedroom was a cubicle, almost. There was space for a queen sized bed, a single night stand, a combined chest of drawers and secretary, and a chair. The room's door opened, and I flattened myself against the window's side, damning the fact that I couldn't read Bella's intentions.

They were manifest in a second, however: sliding up the glass pane, she opened her window, leaned on the sill and inhaled. I did the same, and I was lost.

At first I thought it was thirst. I'd never smelled anything so good in my whole existence, and I'd never been so thirsty; at least after my newborn stage, that is. Drinking her blood would have been easy, that side of her house looked on a small alley and the back of a super market, deserted at night. Nobody would see me; I could take her and drain her in seconds. But, if she died, I would never discover her secrets. And I didn't want to do the Volturi's dirty work for them. The very idea pissed me off. So I stopped breathing and, at the same time, Bella retreated and closed the window. Not that it would stop me, but I was grateful for the barrier. Carefully, I inhaled.

Her delicious scent lingered, and I wasn't all right, not at all. After I'd swallowed the scorching venom filling my mouth, I became aware of the rest of my body. Stunned, I recognized a craving that had nothing to do with bloodlust. Desire coursed in my dry veins - a desire to have, to possess and to_ know_ this mysterious girl with the alluring scent and the closed mind.

Later on I hoped it was safe for me to peep inside. The room was empty till Bella re-entered the room and fished under her cushion for her night clothes. Oh hell, she was undressing. I knew I shouldn't watch but, mesmerized, I did. She was beautiful, and I ogled her perfect little frame. I was ashamed, but not enough to shut my eyes, while a bolt of lust coursed through me.

Once she had put on a makeshift pajama – sweat pants and an oversized t-shirt - she went to her secretary, which had a laptop on the opened flap. I watched her hands intently while she activated the computer, trying to commit to memory what her fingers were doing. I surely was going to have a look at the laptop when I could get into her rooms, because I might discover in it what her silent brain wouldn't tell me.

After she had written for some time, she shut the computer and went to bed.

My throat raged; I needed to hunt, this was certain, but leaving Bella's window caused me pain. I would be back as soon as I could.

After two hours I hadn't found anybody suitable: there weren't a lot of people around and nobody with criminal intentions I could detect. Of course, I could take just anybody, but I was loath to deviate from my recent feeding choices. On the other side of the street there was a hospital, however. Now, if I could find a way to sneak in…

It wasn't difficult. An easy-to-break up back door gave me access. Visitors had gone, and patients were either sleeping or too ill to pay attention, while the nurses were at their stations on the different floors. When one moved to take a new blood bag for a patient's IV, I learned where they were kept, so I went there undetected and stole three of them. Relieved, I drank.

Retracing my steps to the Village, I wondered if I could find a way to procure some bagged blood to keep at home. It would put my empty fridge to some use, at least. The taste hadn't been great – too many preservatives – and yet I felt it would be liberating. _Death_, I mocked, _would you approve of it?_ _If I get free of the need to hunt humans, I might reconnect with my humanity faster, maybe. _Then I laughed at myself. This night was getting weirder and weirder.

In her room Bella was still sleeping, but not in a restful way. What was happening in her dreams? Surprised, I got a few unconnected images: a man laid on the grass on a solitary road … an ambulance coming, and he, the head of the Cullen's coven, speaking with the paramedics. Strange, when she wasn't conscious her mind was not completely sealed to me. While I pondered on this mystery, she muttered something that sounded like _family… no more… _and whimpered. A few tears escaped from her closed eyes.

Again I admired her beauty – a beauty devoid of any artifice: the mass of her mahogany hair spread on her pillow, long, dark lashes resting on pale cheeks, soft, pink lips slightly open_. Bella, who are you? I'll unravel your secrets, _I swore tomyself. My short vigil stopped at dawn; I knew I had to go because, once activities in the supermarket restarted, I would risk to be seen. So, very reluctantly, I reached the ground and left. Apart from everything, I'd left my motorcycle haphazardly parked, and with just the alarm lock on. Now I needed to find a better place for it and secure it better.

The night that had just passed had been an "only good guys around" one, evidently, as I had already discovered when attempting to hunt. My bike was untouched; nobody had tampered with the lock. I rode it carefully for a few blocks, till I found a place where others were parked, with the benefit of a bar to secure the bike to it with a safety chain. I then went back to Bella's house and jumped on the terraced roof, where I could stay unseen, crouched behind the parapet. Inside the building people were stirring, but of course nothing came to me from Bella's apartment. The only solution was to peep out and see her when she left the house.

To complicate things further, the sun was probably going to make an appearance today, so walking with a helmet, even with the visor raised - but still shadowing my skin – wasn't a good idea. The normal, unsuspicious thing would be to carry it under my arm. Surely, I could jump from roof to roof until I got near my motorcycle, but this part of New York was indeed like a village. People were not like elsewhere, walking fast with their ear buds on, oblivious of their surroundings. Here they might even pay attention, so I decided to stay put. Finally, Bella came out from the house and walked away. It was time to visit her home.

The delivery vans had stopped arriving, and now there was nobody in the supermarket's back yard. I flew to the fire escape landing and tried the window's glass pane. It opened easily: It was broken. Very unsafe.

Once inside, her scent hit me like a freight train. Venom pooled in my mouth and thirst raged. And not only thirst. Had she been at home… with horror I imagined myself doing unspeakable things to her, and then drinking her dry. No. I was a member of the Volturi elite, and I was used to controlling myself among humans. I had never taken a female by force, let alone a mortal one. Slowly, the frenzy receded. But, in order not to destroy her when we would be face to face, I had to desensitize myself_. I'll steal something of hers, before I go. _

Presently, however, it was her computer that had priority. I opened it and let it start. It was mostly empty, no e-mail, and not many saved documents. Evidently Bella cleaned her cache, her chronologies and cookies and, for e-mail, she accessed some external account with a username and a password I had yet to discover. But yesterday she had spent almost an hour writing.

I clicked on the Admin icon, then on documents. Inside there were only two folders respectively named Utilities & Contracts, and Recipes. The first one was exactly what it was supposed to be and of no interest. I opened the Recipes file. Mm, she was interested in cooking, evidently. The file list contained a few items, the names meaningless to me: _Rice and zucchini pie, Lamb in sour sauce, Clam Chowder, Panzanella_ - probably an Italian dish - and _Brownies_. Slightly repelled, I read the mysterious directions one had to follow in order to prepare the disgusting concoctions. The last file, however, refused to open. It was encrypted and I needed a password.

Vampires, of course, have an almost eidetic memory. Since the window was transversal to the laptop, I had been able to see the keyboard, but not the screen, and I didn't know what folder she had clicked on. I concentrated on what Bella's fingers had been doing the night before and tried the keys she had pressed.

N…E…M…E…S…I…S

The file opened. It wasn't a recipe:

_March 30_

_Leah came to visit me! She had to go back, I left her at Grand Central …_

I had found Bella's diary – concealed, but not well enough.

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Notes

The recipes are ones I have in my computer. Couldn't resist.

Since The oldest one posted a review to chapter 4 as "guest" and I can't answer, I want to thank her for this insightful review: _Thank you for pointing out something that has bothered me about the Twilight canon: the vampires disdain humans as cattle, but they need human art, culture, even everyday things like buildings, furniture and clothes. Is Volterra full of vampire seamstresses whipping up cloaks for everyone? __I __don't think so. They are hypocritical parasites indeed_!" In fact Edward is developing a strong contempt for the species he belongs to and the deep regret for the "different" vampires he has helped to destroy is gnawing at him,


	7. Chapter 7 Memories

Chapter 7 – Memories

A/N Here below a few lines will describe the dynamics of the confrontation Volturi/Cullen. It is very respectful and not graphic at all.

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_March 29_

_Leah came to visit me! She had to go back, so I left her at Grand Central. I couldn't go past the entrance, because I wasn't supposed to know what train she would take. But I think she and Ali aren't very far from New York._

_I so would like to speak with Alice, I miss her too much. But it's complicated. We have to change cell phone numbers every time, emailing them in cipher to different accounts, and changing those accounts frequently. Or somebody would call me from a booth and give me directions. Such a bother! I need her advice, because I'm concerned that at the library they're wondering about me. Should I stop working there? _

_March15_

_Last night I dreamt of Carlisle. How can you lose your father twice? I can't… I truly can't bear it. He was so wise. I remember when we discussed my future; we even discussed if I wanted to change. I wasn't sure it was something I would like for me, but I didn't want to lose them. "You won't Bella," he told me. "Alice has Seen for you a happy and long human life, and you'll have it. But, even if we won't always live together, we'll always be within reach. We will protect and love you forever. You are part of our family now."_

I scrolled down quickly. There weren't a lot of entries. It was obvious that Bella didn't know how to find Alice, which was the thing I most craved: I had unfinished business with her. However, based on what I'd heard and seen in Leah's mind, I surmised that the wolves prevented Demetri's tracking talent to function. So a Quileute was supposed to stay with Alice at all times. Did the wolves' impairing effect worked on her ability too? She was a Seer; that was the reason Aro wanted her – the real reason behind her family's destruction. Acquisition. But, in the commotion created by my flight, she must have managed to run away herself. Then Demetri had chosen to pursue me – he probably dreaded to go back without the coven's other mind reader. Staying underwater had made it difficult for him to track me, Death had explained. But of course! Alice went underwater herself - and her lupine bodyguards distanced themselves - so that she could have her visions and remain undetected by the tracker. Brilliant.

The diary's first entry was less than a year old. Much later than the events that had caused the disruption of Bella's life.

_... God, I hope this isn't going to give myself away, but if I don't say something to somebody, even if it's just my laptop… if I don't manage to formulate coherent thoughts, I'll go mad…_

_How many weeks since I arrived in New York? I lost count of the days. At night I can't sleep for the nightmares and during the days I'm a zombie. _

…_I force myself to get out and see the sights. But I go through the motions; I'm not really enjoying it. How I would have liked to visit New York with Alice! In winter it rains enough for them to move around freely. I had mailed a round of college applications, but the best one was outside the US. To study English Lit at Oxford, the wildest of my wilder dreams! We all would go. Carlisle would take a sabbatical; he hadn't gone back to his native country for many years and he was very keen. So was Esme. We planned week end trips to Paris, too …_

_No more, no more… you were supposed to stay with me forever, to love and protect me forever and now you are gone. Your beautiful house is ash, as you are._

So that's how it had ended. Of course our team had burned the house after incinerating the vampires who had owned it. All but one. Evidently the Seer didn't see us coming until it was too late. Her mind was completely occupied by another immortal – her mate, probably. He had left her and she had been searching for him, but was also immensely relieved that he was not with the rest of her coven when we came.

Coven, ha. They didn't think of themselves as a coven. They thought they were a family. A family of vampires, by God! Demetri, Jane, Alec and Felix couldn't conceal their contempt while I was reading the Cullens. They judged them ridiculous weaklings, made so by their disgusting diet. Frankly, I found it disgusting too, and yet I was fascinated by them, by their beautiful golden eyes and their surprising thoughts. They intermingled with humans, and their leader was a doctor, a surgeon in contact with humans all day long - resisting the call of their blood. The others did the same. Two were at the university, of all things!

It was then that I started to edit what I told my comrades. It wasn't a smart idea, because, back in Volterra, Aro could well discover it, should he decide to grasp my hand.

And yet, as the almost silent confrontation went on in front of their house, I kept many things to myself, out of the growing respect I felt for them. The silence was interrupted only by my clipped sentences and the monotone questions Jane asked, eager and ready to strike. I had not allowed for it – I was in charge of the interrogation, after all - since the answers were coming anyway - in their heads, if not in their voice.

The Cullens were terrified – as any other vampire who had the misfortune to be under scrutiny and knew to have broken some rules would be - but they loved each other fiercely. In my existence the only comparable feeling I had encountered before was the love felt by the dams for their immortal children. I started to doubt that the reciprocal ties binding the Cullens to each other could be severed, thus separating the gifted one from the ungifted. Furthermore, Chelsea wasn't with us, to inflict her ability to loosen the bonds among beings, immortal or human.

In any case, the reason that had brought our team to the Olympic Peninsula was the Cullens' unholy alliance with a native tribe, whose members shape shifted into giant wolves. Fighting at their side, the Cullens had killed two nomadic vampires, thus choosing another species over their own. A third component of the small coven had barely escaped. Later on, he had confided the incredible story to another immortal and, by word of mouth, the tale had eventually found its way to Volterra.

It was judged an unforgivable crime, particularly by Caius, who had waged a successful war against werewolves in the past, and wasn't going to tolerate such a coalition. My companions thought that the alliance was due to cowardice and sheer madness but, after listening to the culprits' minds, I knew better. I decided not to enlighten my team, though, telling them only the indispensable minimum. The truth was that the Cullens protected humans; they even had a mortal friend who knew their nature, which was another unforgivable crime. That one, in particular, appeared in a frantic vision of Alice Cullen - she Saw her friend in the hands of Felix. He drained the human girl and smacked his lips at the end. The female's golden eyes transfixed mine in a muted prayer, when she realized she had betrayed herself. Quickly other memories passed in her mind, giving me a vision of her forbidden friendship with the human girl.

I had no intention of exposing her, and I was still hoping to save the coven from destruction. Oh yes, they were guilty according to the letter of the law, but they didn't deserve to die. It was like they were showing something new to me, a different way for a vampire to be. And that should have been carefully studied, not obliterated.

I wasn't sure at all that I would manage to avoid their punishment - even if I resorted to downright lies – when the situation hit rock bottom. The blonde female called Rosalie insulted Jane, who retaliated with a bolt of pain. Her mate, Emmett, moved to her defense, and was hit in turn. At this point Carlisle Cullen attacked, to protect his "children". Alec blinded everybody with his talent, and the end came quickly. When only Alice was left standing, Alec freed her, but Felix was already hovering over her slight frame. He would overpower her in seconds and offer her the standard choice: "_join or die_."

It was then that two centuries of horror hit me. I couldn't stand another moment doing what I'd been doing so far. I could no longer serve the Volturi. And the only way I could escape them was in death.

I ran.

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I was lost in my memories for a long time. When I came back to the present, I continued to look for the entries in Bella's diary. I wasn't going to forget them, but there was nothing that gave me other clues, apart from insights of the writer's mind. A captivating mind, loving and lovely. Well, I could dwell on it at leisure. Or, rather, I could copy the diary. I rummaged in the secretary first drawer and I found DVDs and computer accessories, some pen drives included. One, well in the back, contained the PDF of a novel, with some space left. I copied the diary into it and then put everything in order. Since I would be coming back the next day, I would bring back the pen drive, after having copied the file in my computer.

Bella's scent was tolerable now, but it'd be disturbing anew after losing it for a while, so I looked for something to take with me for desensitization. _Hmm, a scarf?_ _A pullover? Nah. Too bulky. _Her night t-shirt_ was _on the bed and it called me. I grasped it and inhaled, getting an instant hard on and a mouthful of venom.

It was a white shirt, bearing the sentence _**Just do it! **_How funny, I was going to obey a training shoes' slogan. Laughing, I peeled off my jacket and button down and put it on. It was a tight fit, but it would do. Wearing my things over it again, I paced the apartment taking careful breaths, willing my arousal to subside and my thirst to abate.

_Will she miss it?_ I wondered, but decided I didn't care. She would be puzzled, but surely wouldn't suspect an intruder, one who would steal an old T-shirt while there was a lap-top ready to be taken. And, after all, humans often misplaced things or just forgot about them.

A quick look at the sky told me that I might have barely the time to go back to the motorcycle without having to walk with the helmet on, so I left and went home.

I didn't feel like riding and sunlight kept me in. But I wouldn't have gone strolling in any case. It was better to lie on my couch. Wrapped in the scent emanating from Bella's t-shirt, I just wanted to savor it with no distractions. To savor and to suffer it, but the pleasure overshadowed the pain. It was a scent made for me in hell, or in heaven, I didn't know, but I doubted I could do without it. No, not in order to drink her blood. I'd do whatever it took to avoid it. I'd do everything, but running away from Bella. Fate had made me find her, the little human who ran with vampires and embraced werewolves. The more I learned about her, the more I wanted to know her. I refused to consider the fact that she appealed to the male I also was. Nothing good could come of it. In addition, she was the key to Alice, the key to my atonement. Repentance and well-deserved punishment – wasn't that what Death had meant when speaking of finding my humanity anew? From this point of view Bella surely had a role to play in what remained of my existence.

Night found me again perched on my new favorite place, the fire escape's second floor section of a modest house in the Village. When she got home, Bella went out immediately again, carrying a big plastic bag. Peeping cautiously from the terrace, I saw her entering a Chinese laundry at the block's corner. The house was too small to have communal washing machines, evidently. I heard her returning, but she remained in the living area. From the small noises I heard, she was cooking herself a dinner. There was some music on. Oh, Radiohead. Even I had heard of them, despite the fact that I wasn't much a bands' fan. But they were interesting, if a tad creepy. Bella surely had no banal tastes in modern music and it was a perfect complement to her situation, with a vampire creep behind her window.

Later, I heard the sounds coming from the TV, but she was changing the channel often. Was she bored? Her cell phone rang in her bedroom and she came in to answer it. I flattened myself against the window's side.

"Yes, give me the new number," she said. Then she repeated it, and I committed the number to memory while she was writing it down. Was this my chance to find Alice? She concluded her call with a, "tomorrow, then," and returned to the living room.

I tried the number, but there was no ring, and a recorded voice announced that it didn't exist. This convinced me that her means of communication with the last of the Cullens were quite sophisticated. They must have a cipher that allowed – once you knew the key - to find the real number. Given some time, ciphers could be cracked, but not immediately and not here.

The all-important telephone call was scheduled for the following day. I'd better follow her then, to see if I could catch her at it and learn something. In any case, I wanted to know what she did during the day.

Bella came to her room and this time I paid her the courtesy of not watching. I heard her swearing, though. Oh, she was looking for her t-shirt and couldn't find it. Eventually she muttered to herself: "maybe I put it in the laundry". Then she stopped searching and, since I heard a drawer being opened, she must have taken another one. When she finally fell asleep, I opened her window a notch, just to inhale her aroma. The Nike shirt had done its job: the scent was delicious but tolerable. Though lust decidedly was winning over bloodlust, and that could be a problem… particularly because I had no way to solve it standing on a fire escape. Willing my lower parts into submission I decided to leave for a short while, both to find relief and maybe to hunt. I wasn't sure about that, though. Try another hospital for blood bags? In any case I'll come back here well in time, and follow her to her place of employment.

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Note

Next chapter will be very short, but I trust you'll find it interesting. It will be in another Canon character's POV and the story will make another step forward..


	8. Chapter 8 Interlude

Chapter 8 – Interlude

A/N: a very short but necessary chapter. It will explain Edward's behavior in the next one and his decision to reveal himself. A much longer chapter will follow.

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_Disgrace… disgrace, I was disgraced. Everything reminded me of it. I was no longer allowed to attend confidential meetings with the Masters. Everyone knew my shame. It was like I had leprosy, if it were possible for vampires._

_Jane was looking at me smugly all the time. I'm sure she hoped to be allowed to punish me, the bitch. And, if I fail again, she will._

_Maledetto Antony, maledetto. Why did you run? _

_I can't sense him anymore. I followed him to Canada, but there he disappeared. Never got his mind-map again. Not a hint. He must have died. Hell, he might have killed himself, for all I know. He had been despondent for a long time. Stupid. But how did he die? The shape-shifters maybe. Disgusting dogs. But we'll come for them when the time is right. We surely will._

_Maybe this trip will make me redeem myself. Even if I have lost Antony, even if I can't find Alice Cullen. But Aro wants her; he thinks she'll be the brightest gem in his crown. I'm sure that for Caius she would be better dead. For me too. Puttana. She disappeared under my nose._

_I believe the Quileutes are protecting the Seer; they are keeping her concealed for me. One of the last things Antony told us, when he was reading the Cullens, was that the wolves can interfere with some of our talents. Apparently Alice couldn't function near them. So I must presume that my tracking talent suffers also. And, hell, what if Jane and Alec too are disabled when we attack?_

_We must learn more about them, for sure. But how could a vampire spy on the reservation? They can recognize vampires easily, and they can kill us._

_It took time, but eventually I was allowed to come to the US and try to repair my mistakes. So I have decided to plant a human spy in their midst. It wasn't easy to organize, but now it is practically done. The guy is very determined to discover things for us. He knows the price of failure – a price he will pay even if he is successful, but that is neither here nor there. I'll be waiting in New York for news, so that nobody will suspect anything. _

_Oh, a passed out drunkard. Central Park is truly dangerous at night. You never know whom you might meet. He stinks to high heaven, but he will do…_

_._

What Demetri didn't know was that another vampire was reading his mind. Me. He couldn't sense my presence, nor could he recognize my mental map – Death's promise held true. And he hadn't seen or smelled me, since I had been careful to keep a great distance between us. As I knew the tracker very well, unfortunately, I could read his mind even when a mile or more separated us. When I'd had heard his thoughts in Central Park – he was hunting, like I had half a mind to do myself – I had been appalled, but I followed him cautiously until he made his kill, disposed of the corpse and went back to the hotel he was staying in.

So, a Volturi's minion was going to La Push under a disguise to spy on the Quileutes. This could be extremely dangerous for Alice and Bella. I had to find a way to let them know. And Demetri shouldn't be allowed to live much longer.

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Notes:

You'll remember that the name Edward went by as a Volturi was Antony.

Demetri is a fascinating character and I have read fics where he has a positive role. In one he becomes Edward's lover and in another he is paired with Leah. In my story, however, he is a real bastard.


	9. Chapter 9 No Escape

Chapter 9 – No Escape

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A/N Longish chapter as promised and yes, finally they meet!

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(Bella)

I switched off the cell phone and took out the SIM card. Later, I would melt it on my gas stove before putting it in the garbage. I had a collection of new ones to activate and use. The call with Alice had left me confused and worried. I had gone to the dusty upper level of the library, where nobody ever came, and called the number I'd been given. When Alice answered me, I breathed in relief.

"Have you Seen anything?" I asked. "I don't know if in the office they are wondering about me. Is it dangerous? Should I resign?"

She was silent for a while. Then she murmured: "I haven't Seen you in the library. I have had a couple visions of you, but when I have to force them, they are short and not very clear. The best are the ones that come by themselves, and I haven't a chance to get them now. Anyway, you were in a room – with somebody. A man, but I couldn't see his face. There was an upright piano in a corner…"

"Was I in danger?"

"Mm, I don't know, really. I don't think so. All in all, I had a good feeling about it." Alice was obviously uncertain. "Ah, I also had a glimpse of a motorcycle, but I don't know what it means. Do you intend to buy one? Don't, please. I feel it would be dangerous."

"No way! Why would I buy a motorcycle?" While answering, I had a sudden image pop into my mind. A black motorcycle with a black clad rider. Where had I been when I had seen it? But Alice resumed speaking, excitement in her voice.

"I Saw Jasper, Bella, I was with him again! But I still don't know where he is now. In any case, the Volturi are still in Volterra with no immediate plans that I could see. I'll ask Paul and Embry to go looking for Jasper. I think he's coming South. They'll try in Canada first. Once we're reunited, we can work out a strategy better."

She repeated she was sorry to be so vague, and we decided to speak again soon. Maybe we could even meet; Seth could come and fetch me, before going home again.

"I'll stay under water for a day, if need be, and maybe I'll finally manage to have better visions."

After the call I went down to the hall and noticed somebody going out in a hurry. I could see the back of a tall man in jeans and black leather jacket exiting the building. Deb was looking quite pissed off.

"That guy was reading the World Atlas, but he jumped up so suddenly that he banged it on the table and kicked his chair down, making a lot of noise. And, of course, left the volume on the table." she complained, adding in an undertone that people were getting worse every day.

I went to straighten the offending chair and shelved the heavy atlas for her. There were other chores I had to see to, and I set myself to work. Fortunately they needed just a little attention, because I was still absorbed by the things Alice had told me, unsatisfactory as they were.

She had Seen myself in a room with a man. There had been an unspoken question in Alice's voice. Was I finally getting a boyfriend? In the past she had Seen me with a baby in my arms. Although in some of her visions she had seen me as a vampire, hunting with her, those visions had been rare and blurry. A long and happy human life was her clearer prediction for me, she always said. Married and a mother, evidently.

The problem was that I never had a boyfriend. True, I had lost my V card to a stupid, fumbling boy when I was barely 15 and still living with Renée. I refused to see him again afterwards, and quickly forgot about him and the non-stellar experience. Then my mother got ill and I had no time for sex, let alone love. Finally, when I met them, the Cullen males ruined me for any man, dammit. Not that I'd wanted Jasper, Carlisle or Emmett for myself. They were all happily paired; _mated_, to be exact, and the powerful ties that bound each one of them to his mate were wonderful to see. The way those guys could love, and the way their love was reciprocated was so heartwarming. Humans didn't have that: couples fought bitterly, split, divorced. I knew it all too well. And they were all so beautiful - no mortal man could achieve such grace, such virile perfection. None that I had met, in any case. A vampire then? Unlikely. All the other vampires my surrogate family knew of – with one exception, but he was mated too - had red eyes and they wouldn't be courting me, they would eat me.

So I was frozen, stuck between two worlds.

When Alice had first saved my life and then befriended me, she had done something absolutely reckless. It was forbidden by the laws which governed her species, and she had put herself and her family at risk.

"I Saw us together, in my house, in my room, trying on dresses, making excursions, going to the Sol Duc hot springs, going shopping, laughing, playing. I Saw that we were going to be great friends, and I couldn't let you die, Bella. I ran as I had never run before, to avoid that the cruiser crashed on the tree…"

In saving me by stopping a running car with her hands - a superhuman feat - she had exposed her secret, and the only outcome should have been my death, or my transformation. But Alice, who had completely forgotten her life prior of the change, craved human experiences, craved a human friend. And her visions told her I was the one.

It isn't easy to resist Alice. It took her a few minutes to have Carlisle's support. Jasper would go for anything that made her happy, Esme was ready to love and protect an orphan, alone and bereft. As for Emmett, he thought it was fun. The only resistance came from Rosalie, and even that didn't last too long.

Practically adopted, cherished, I finally discovered what a family could be. The Cullens remained together by choice, they loved each other, they looked out for each other, and they had even fun together. It was a family much, much better than many human ones. And, if one considered that they were denying their very nature for ethical reasons, one could only admire, respect and love them in return.

But now, of all that extraordinary family, only Alice remained, a shell of her former self, at least until she found Jasper again.

My throat was painfully constricted, I had tears in my eyes, the pain the tragedy had caused me was still vivid and raw. Sorrow, mixed with the anxiety of not knowing what was going to happen to us, was gnawing at my insides. Lest somebody noticed my distress, I took an extended lunch break and went for a stroll.

I was walking toward the meat district's docks when a motorcycle passed me. A motorcycle… It wasn't the safest area, so I started to go back. The biker was strangely familiar, and I suddenly remembered where I had seen him, or somebody identical. It was when I was walking home with Leah three days back.

The bike passed me again and speed away… in the direction of the library.

Alice's visions were not to be taken lightly. Was I being stalked? A woman living alone in New York is prey. I couldn't even go to the police - apart that I had nothing substantial to tell them, if I said I had a precognitive friend, they would likely decide I was raving mad and make me see a psychiatrist.

Now that I was on 9th Avenue, there were a lot of pedestrians around and a heavy traffic. Feeling marginally safer, but still in a panic, I hailed a taxi, and miraculously there was nobody to steal it from me. I was afraid to continue on foot, lest the biker was lurking behind some corner. Once at the library, I darted inside. Safe for now! The lunch time hour had brought in a lot of people for books' changing, and I rushed to help.

At three pm all was quiet again and I felt light headed. In fact, I had forgotten to eat. I went to my locker, where I kept an emergency stash of granola bars, and ate one hurriedly. Lucy, a nice coworker, was in the room too and stared at me, probably surprised that I was still hungry after the lunch break.

In the back office I started putting entries in the computer, but I couldn't concentrate. I made mistakes and had to reread every entry. I dreaded closing time and going home alone. Come to think of it, breaking into my house was damn easy. The apartment on the first floor was often empty, as the woman living in it was babysitting for her daughter and just came in to feed her two cats. And the couple on the third floor were out most of the time. My bedroom window's safety latch was broken, and it was easily accessible from the outside. I had meant to have it fixed, but I had forgotten …

As the afternoon advanced, the need to confide in somebody became impossible to resist.

"Lucy," I said to my colleague when we were left alone with closing duty. "I am worried, because somebody has been following me. At least, this is what I think."

"Do you want to call the police?" she asked, concerned.

"What would I tell them? It's just an impression… but I live alone, and…"

I didn't add that I couldn't ask for police protection even if I had firm proof of being stalked. I was using a fake identity, after all.

"What does he look like?"

"Tall. He wears a leather jacket and dark jeans and drives a motorcycle so, with the helmet on, I couldn't see his face."

"Wait," Lucy exclaimed, her brow furrowing, "I think he has been here today. Twice. There was a young man carrying a helmet who came here this morning, and this afternoon too. He always left in a hurry. He is a redhead."

"Oh God, I think I saw him here too, this morning. He was leaving when I came down from the upper levels."

In the afternoon I had been working at the computer and not in the hall.

"Look Mary," Lucy said firmly, "this is what we'll be doing this evening: Bob is meeting me at the entrance. I can wear your raincoat with the hood on, and the stalker will be fooled. My boyfriend has a karate brown belt, by the way. So I'll be in no danger, I promise you. I'll see if somebody follows me. You close the doors from the inside, and stay put here."

She was so kind and brave. I felt humbled.

"Are you sure?" I asked, thinking that I could even sleep in the library this night. In the attic, among discarded things, outdated computers, old keyboards, boxes of ruined books destined to recycling but forgotten, there was a saggy old sofa. Later, I would be making a call – maybe Seth or Leah could come and take me to Alice tomorrow morning.

"Yes, I am sure," Lucy confirmed. "but you shouldn't go back home alone. Can you take a taxi and go to a friend's house? Or come to me later?"

I reassured her: I wouldn't go home alone and I would call a friend. Since he wouldn't be in Manhattan, I could stay here till morning, if need be.

We did the charade: eventually Lucy left wearing my raincoat, giving me her parka in substitution. We were of the same height and we both wore dark pants. It would work.

That is, it would fool him if he was human, but what if he was a vampire? Hell, why didn't I think of it? Did I put Lucy in danger too? No boyfriend could stand up to a vampire. But why should a vampire be so cautious? He could have broken in my home, killed me already… or captured me. I'd heard, however, that the Volturi employed human minions for some tasks… Oh God let him be a normal pervert.

Alone, I ate my two remaining granola bars and made myself coffee in the staff lounge, strangely reluctant to go to the bleak attic room. When I finally made my way upstairs, it seemed to me that the atmosphere was stifling. Too dusty, too dry. I opened the window, inhaling with pleasure the humid hair – a slight drizzle had started. Sitting on the large window sill, I took out my cell phone and a new SIM card. The first step would be to call La Push and…

The attic door opened.

Long legs, dark jeans, black leather jacket, no helmet. And a pale, pale face. Exquisite, carved in alabaster. Underneath the harsh neon lights the hair shimmered reddish over his ethereal brow. His eyes, however, weren't red; they were blue.

_Contact lenses, probably, because such beauty isn't human. _

I had been found.

"How… how did you get in?" I croaked. Stupid question. But he answered politely.

"I left a window open in the lavatory, and I came back through it."

_Oh, of course. The windows in the lavatory are very high, so nobody bothers to make sure they are properly shut. Not too high for a vampire, though._

I had no more doubts left that he was one. Whomever else could have such a musical voice? A voice that one would listen to forever. A voice that, however, had just admitted that he could easily do what a human couldn't. He knew that I knew about vampires.

He advanced towards me. The grace and fluidity of his gait, slow as it was, held my gaze. He stopped, though, like he was respecting my personal space. _Why has he stopped? He can catch me in an instant; what is his game?_

He was near enough, however, for me to feel a faint whiff of his scent. Sweet and delicious, obviously. Something exotic …

Distracted for a while, I realized he was working his magic on me.

_Vampires can dazzle us; I must not succumb to it. _

With an effort I came back to the main point: if he was not grasping me, if he hadn't killed me already, then he must have a different plan.

_They want to use me. They'll use me to capture Alice._

NO.

_I will thwart him_, I swore to myself. I was dead meat anyway, but I could still save Alice. I wasn't even scared, a strange calm had taken hold. I made an infinitesimal move backward, trying to look as I were squirming. I had to distract him, if just for a few seconds.

"Are you with the Volturi? Did they send you?" I asked.

The vampire froze. There was a pained expression in his face. Then, after a long hesitation he murmured:

"I was with them, but… I won't hurt you."

_Is he telling the truth? He sounds so sad… No, he must be lying. He is a beautiful, horrible liar. He won't hurt me now, he says. Oh, but his masters will, they will… I won't be used like this. I'll keep Alice safe… I have to distract him with another question, I am almost there._

"Do you expect me to lead you to my friends, so that you can kill us all together?"

He started answering something like "No, you are wrong, I need…." But I had retreated enough. Now I was sitting on my thighs, my bottom hanging outside the window.

I let myself fall.

.

Note

Comments? Thoughts?


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